Cassidy's Corner

by Hack, Henry

  He leafed through the paperwork and decided it could wait until tomorrow, Tuesday. He was tired now as midnight approached as would any eighty-nine year old person be after a busy Monday. He would study the briefs tomorrow afternoon after the session was over. A four to three decision from the well-respected, well-learned New York State Court of Appeals would make interesting reading for sure.

  ●

  Tuesday and Wednesday were days of anxiety and depression for Harry. He walked his post in a daze speaking only when necessary. He stayed on the street, not wanting to chat with any of the shopkeepers. He tried to tell himself this could be the last time he would ever walk this beat, but his inner consciousness refused to believe it. He had called the PBA office three times on Tuesday and four times today. The answer was always the same – the judge was still reviewing it. They hoped a decision would come soon. “Soon?” he had said. “Don’t you realize I’m scheduled to be on the box in less than twenty-four hours?”

  “Yes, Officer,” they had said, “We know. Your delegate will call you immediately as soon as we get something definite.”

  When Wednesday’s tour ended and still no word had come from the Supreme Court, Harry wondered what to do next. Maybe now was the time to talk to Father Tom.

  He got in his car and headed for St. Vincent’s.

  While Harry was on his way to see his priest, Justice Billingham sat in his dimly lit chamber and finished his review. The New York State Court of Appeals majority decision was clear, well-written and legally sound. The minority whimperings were a disgrace. But yet, something about the polygraph had always been distasteful to him. The basic, simple question was – if the machine were not foolproof enough to have its results admitted in a criminal proceeding, then why allow its use in a civil or administrative proceeding? After all, the loss of a career in many ways was far more punitive than a few months in jail. Yes, he reasoned, this whole polygraph question should be reviewed and decided on by him and his brethren on the Supreme Court once and for all. And he was sure they would love him for handing them this hot potato.

  “Alan,” he called out to his chief clerk.

  “Yes, your honor?” he said, walking briskly into the judge’s chambers.

  “Prepare a stay of this decision by the New York Court of Appeals for my signature in the morning. My notes indicate my reasoning. The order doesn’t have to be in-depth or extensive. Three-quarters of a page should do it.”

  “Yes, your honor. It’s been a long time since anyone stayed a decision of the New York State Court of Appeals.”

  “Then it’s long overdue, isn’t it? “Let’s ruffle a few feathers up in cold, snowy Albany.”

  ●

  Harry arrived at the church and knocked on the rectory door. The aging housekeeper opened it and looked at him with a disapproving eye.

  “Would Father Tom be available, ma’am?”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, but I need to speak with him. Tell him it’s Officer Harry Cassidy.”

  “Officer, is it?” she said, with a trace of brogue. “Stay here, I’ll go ask him.”

  She returned a few moments later, obviously not pleased Father Tom had agreed to see this unannounced visitor. “He’s in the kitchen,” she said, pointing down the hall as she turned and walked briskly in the other direction.

  Harry walked in and Father Tom, who had his back to him as he rinsed his dinner dishes in the sink said, “Have a seat, Harry. I just finished an early dinner and I’m about to put the coffee on. Will you join me?”

  “Yes, Father, I will,” he said, sitting on a kitchen chair.

  Father Tom plugged the coffee pot in, turned around, and said, “How are things going?”

  The smile froze on the priest’s face as he saw the tortured visage of Harry Cassidy staring back at him.

  “I look that bad, huh?”

  “Is it time for that talk now?”

  “It is.”

  “Let’s bring our coffee into my study and we’ll talk there.”

  They sat on the couch and Harry began, “Bless me Father for I have sinned…”

  Harry spoke for forty-five minutes with four or five interruptions from the priest for clarification on particular issues. He told Tom everything. He would never lie to his priest, just as he would never lie to his lawyer. What would be the sense of that? Why go to someone for help and then hold back? When he finished, Father Tom looked carefully at Harry and said, “Just what is it you’re confessing to me?”

  Harry looked at the priest incredulously and said, “Why betrayal, of course. And maybe murder.”

  “Let’s examine this now. Let’s see what sins you committed against the Lord and what offenses you committed against society. Then we can plan our course of absolution. Let me ask you this – when you left Richie Winston in that car and hung up the callbox phone, not getting help for him, what was your intention?”

  “My intention was to let him die. It was revenge, pure and simple, for him getting over on me through the years, and that night in particular.”

  “But he didn’t die right away, and you told me the medical opinion was such that your action – or inaction – I should say, was of no significance.”

  “But I betrayed my oath of office, and…”

  “Yes, but the real sin was the deliberate blackness in your heart leaving a fellow human being to die. That’s the big one. And it wouldn’t have gotten much bigger had Richie died as a direct result of your inaction. It’s the intent that counts. And your intent was evil.”

  Harry bowed his head in shame as Tom continued, “As far as the betrayal goes, as I told you before, Jesus even forgave Judas. But in your case, you have committed a societal disloyalty to your employer by violating your sworn oath.”

  “What do I do now, Father? How can I cleanse my soul? Will you forgive me?”

  “Yes, I will absolve you of your sins. But for absolution to be complete you must also admit your betrayal to the Department.”

  “Deep down, I knew that. But to do so would mean losing my job.”

  “Is that the penalty for betrayal? Are you so sure it would mean termination if you throw yourself on their mercy?”

  “Internal Affairs shows no mercy. I need that stay from the Supreme Court.”

  Tom put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and said, “That doesn’t matter. You must confess or risk dying in sin.”

  “I know you’re right and I will do it, but not now. The Job is the only solid thing I can depend on.”

  “No special person in your life you can rely on?”

  “That’s just it Tom, there is a special person – but with recent events I’m not sure I can fully depend on her. But she is the key. If she stands with me I will confess and resign. Only then, as you so eloquently just told me, will I be at peace with myself.”

  “I know eventually you will do the right and honorable thing.”

  “I wish I had as much faith in my honor as you do. You told me something when I was a rookie, when I wanted to solve all the crimes in the world and lock up all the bad guys. It was something Mother Teresa had said…”

  “Yes, I remember it. Mother Teresa said, ‘we cannot do great things on this earth. We can only do small things with great love.’”

  “Yes, that was it. I tried to do that by concentrating on my beat – my little corner of the world – and making that one, small place safe and secure for the people there. Somehow I lost my focus and got off the track, and lost the true meaning of her words. I figured my beat would be better off with Richie Winston dead and gone.”

  “Yes, you did lose your way, but now you realize what went wrong, and you’ve confessed to it. Now, let me absolve you of these sins.”

  When the priest finished and Harry said his Act of Contrition, Father Tom said, “For your penance I want you to go into the church and pray the rosary.” He reached over into his desk drawer and took a set of beads, plain black ones with a silver crucifix, out of a
small black cloth purse and handed them to Harry with a wink. “Just in case you forgot yours this morning when you put on your gun belt.”

  Harry smiled and took the beads and purse from the priest. “Thank you, Father. Thank you very much.”

  He got up to leave and Tom said, “I’m not finished with you. Those beads were blessed by the Pope in Rome and I want them back. I want you to say the rosary every day to remind you of what you must do to complete your absolution. And when you do, bring them back to me. They’re special and I keep them for special persons only. And by special, I mean for those who are truly worth saving. Remember that, Harry – I believe you are definitely worth saving.”

  “Thank you, Tom. I hope the Lord agrees with you.”

  By the time Harry had finished the rosary, he realized he needed some food in his body. When was the last time he had something other than coffee?

  He stopped at the Burger King on the way home and picked up a cheese whopper, large fries and a large vanilla shake and downed it all ravenously when he got back to his apartment. Father Tom had lifted a tremendous amount of the guilt he carried, but he still had to face tomorrow. He got into bed, taking the rosary beads with him. He prayed softly to himself, and by the middle of the third decade, he was fast asleep.

  ●

  On Thursday, the alarm clock roused Harry at eight. He had slept nearly eleven hours. Thankfully, Captain Snyder had excused him from reporting to his post until after the polygraph test. The rosary beads were still clutched in his left hand. Three hours until test time. He went to the bathroom, relieved himself and splashed cold water on his face. He put on a pot of coffee and decided to call the PBA office before showering and shaving. The line was busy and he tried three more times to get through with no success. When he came out of the bathroom he heard the phone ringing and he ran to pick it up.

  “Harry, it’s Joe Vitale. The judge has reached his decision. We don’t know what it is, but the lawyers are standing by for a fax that should be coming over soon. I’ll call you when I hear from them.”

  “Any idea which way the judge will rule?”

  “None at all. Hang in there. I gotta make more calls.”

  Harry dressed into his uniform and made breakfast with one eye on the telephone that hung on the kitchen wall and the other one on the clock above the refrigerator. He had eggs, a couple of brown and serve sausages, toast and coffee. He was surprised he could eat at all, and that he was able to keep it down. He went into the bedroom and retrieved the rosary beads. It was 9:40 when he began to pray. At 9:52 the phone rang. Harry stared at it and picked it up on the second ring. He took a deep breath and answered.

  “Harry, it’s Joe. We got it. The judge ordered the stay.”

  Harry was speechless for a few seconds and then said, “Thank God, but what does this mean?”

  “The case gets set for review by the entire court. It could happen this term, but the court is almost always booked up. More likely they’ll schedule it for their next term, which begins in October.”

  “I’m due over at IAD in an hour. Do I still go?”

  “I’ll let you know, though I don’t see why they would still want you. I’m sure they got the word, but if not, I’ll give it to them. Let me call Goldman and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  “Joe, thanks for everything.”

  Harry hung up the phone and let the air out of his lungs. He had escaped the box, maybe forever. When the phone rang again, it was 10:20.

  “Sorry it took me so long, Harry. They were all in a meeting over this decision. Goldman didn’t sound happy.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said you have an appointment at IAD at eleven, and you better keep it.”

  “But why, Joe?”

  “Who knows? I’ll meet you there. Better get a move on.”

  ●

  Joe and Harry were directed to Room One by Miss Livermore where Susan and Rita waited. “Sit down, Officer Cassidy,” Susan said. “I know you are aware of the Supreme Court decision to stay the use of the polygraph and I know you are wondering why I still wanted you over here.”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “You’ve seen the questions and reviewed them?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, Officer, I am now officially asking you to voluntarily submit to the polygraph exam, as scheduled, utilizing those twelve questions.”

  Harry almost blurted out a loud, “Hell no, Sergeant,” but caught himself and politely said, “No, Sergeant, I will not volunteer to take the polygraph exam.”

  “Very well, I am now going to ask you to answer all of those questions with only a yes, or a no. Please answer them truthfully, and I remind you, your answers are being recorded.”

  “Sergeant Goldman,” Joe said.

  “Yes, Officer Vitale?”

  “What is the purpose of this?”

  “It’s part of my investigation.”

  “Sergeant, I am stating for the record if the recording of Officer Cassidy’s responses is subjected to analysis by a voice stress analyzer or similar electronic device, and adverse action is taken against him based on that analysis, the PBA will file a grievance against the Internal Affairs Division and against you, personally.”

  Susan’s emerald eyes flashed, and the color in her cheeks rose. Harry had no idea what a voice stress analyzer was, but obviously Joe did, and it looked like he had hit a nerve.

  “I do not plan to electronically or mechanically analyze the responses of Officer Cassidy,” Goldman said. “Now let us proceed with the questions.”

  There was no question in Harry’s mind now. He would not resign now, and he would not confess to this bitch now. He looked at her as she shuffled the papers with the questions on them. She looked so lovely. Why was she doing this? The thought of losing her hit him and he blinked back a tear. Susan looked over at Harry just at that moment, and then she turned away, blinking back a tear of her own. “Question number one,” she said. “Is your name Harold Cassidy?

  “Yes.”

  “Are you a member of the New York Metropolitan Police Department?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you stab Richard Winston on December 25?”

  “No.”

  “Did you shoot Richard Winston on December 25?”

  “No,” he answered truthfully in a strong, steady voice just as he had truthfully answered the previous questions. He steeled himself for question # 5.

  “Did you see Richard Winston in his vehicle after he was stabbed and shot?”

  “No,” he said, hoping his voice remained steady as he gave the one-word lie.

  “Is your father’s first name Timothy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you choke Richard Winston on the night of December 24?”

  “No.”

  “Did you observe the attack on Richard Winston on December 25?”

  “No.”

  “Is your mother’s maiden name Greta Schmitt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you pick up the telephone in call box number 2B at, or about, four o’clock in the morning on December 25?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know what Richard Winston meant when he told us you saved his life?”

  “No.”

  “And now my last question, Officer Cassidy. Please pick up your head and look at me.”

  Harry complied and looked directly into her eyes, seething with hatred for her at this moment.

  “Question number twelve, Officer. Have you answered all my previous eleven questions truthfully?”

  “Yes.”

  She rose at his last answer and said, “Thank you, Officer Cassidy. That will be all. You are dismissed.”

  “Susan … Sergeant…”

  She glared at him. “I said, that’s all.” And then she strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Joe, Harry and Rita said nothing as they exited the room. When they were in the hallway, Harry said, “Sergeant
Becker, may I speak with you privately in your office after I have a couple of minutes with Officer Vitale?”

  “Sure, I have plenty of time now. I have the machine oiled up and ready to go, and no one to strap in the seat anymore.”

  Harry walked with Joe outside and asked, “What was all that stuff with analyzers between you and Goldman?”

  Joe explained the voice stress analyzer allegedly could detect deception, lies if you will, just like the polygraph. Only this machine could do it based on voice responses alone. You did not have to be hooked up to it to measure blood pressure, respiration or pulse rate.

  “Does this thing work?”

  “Not all the time, but it does on some individuals. And the way she wanted you to answer those questions, I got suspicious.”

  “She didn’t seem happy when you brought it up, that’s for sure.”

  “She seems to go to extraordinary lengths in your case. What did you do to her anyway to get her so pissed off?”

  “Who knows, Joe? Who the hell knows?”

  ●

  “Come in and sit down,” Rita said.

  He closed the door and sat across the desk from her.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “First, this has to be completely off the record. No tape, all right?”

  “I don’t tape anyone in my office. It’s not set up to accomplish that.”

  “How about your handbag? You IAD types are always wired.”

  Rita reached down under her desk and brought her large handbag up on the desk. She reached inside and Harry heard a zipper being pulled. She withdrew a small voice activated recorder and placed it on the desk in front of him. “Notice the switch is in the off position and it will stay that way and in full view as we talk.”

  “Okay.”

  “However, you know nothing said in IAD is off the record. I can’t go along with that request.”

  “This is strictly personal, but I understand your position. So I’ll take my chances. If you pick something up that will hurt me, go right ahead and use it. Run to Susan, or the Russian, and make some points.”

  “Do you think I would do that?”

  “No, I don’t, but then I thought Susan was on my side, and I’m in love with her.”